Tag!
by littlefiction
Summary: Albus Dumbledore is a very observant man, and one thing he has observed lately is that Professor McGonagall seems unusually tense. What she needs, he thinks, is a rousing game of tag.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling does.

A/N: One shot. Short. Written in response to littlefiction's challenge at Adopt-A-Plot Center, located at scenic littlefiction's profile!

"Speaking" _'thinking'_

**Tag!**

Albus Dumbledore was a very observant man. He observed a great many things on a regular basis: the beauty of rain, the moods of his students, the anticipation before a quidditch match, and the tart, tantalizing taste of his beloved lemon drops were among his favorite things to observe. Each had it's own profound importance in the world, but what he believed to be his most important observation of late was simply:

"Professor McGonagall seems unusually tense lately, don't you think?"

"I hadn't noticed." Severus muttered, completely and unabashedly disinterested as he carefully measured out more than the precise measurement needed of a particularly foul smelling diced root for the 5th years' potions lesson later.

"I have. She's often wound a little tight, but these past few days she seems unusually waspish. I think I'll go cheer her up a bit. Goodnight, Severus."

"Headmaster." Severus muttered without looking up.

Albus walked down the halls, a cheerful little bounce in his step. _'Not even you my dear, will be able to stay tense with my impeccable technique!'_ Stopping just shy of Minerva's office, he stretched his old muscles and worked his old joints in preparation. He took a few deep breathes of the bracingly chilly air in the corridors before summoning all his dignity and authority and strolling calmly to her door and knocking.

"It's open." Came the voice of the head of Griffindor; her voice gruff with disuse.

"Really? I could have sworn it was closed." He chuckled joyfully.

"It's not locked. You are welcome to open it and enter."

"Why thank you, my dear, don't mind if I do." He opened the door and smiled sweetly at an old friend and colleague, not allowing his smile to falter at the sight of her shoulders so close to her ears. "Minerva, do you have a few moments to spare me? I assure you it is of utmost importance."

"Yes, these don't need to be finished tonight, I just thought I'd get ahead. What can I do for you?"

"You can forgive me." He said, gracing her with an all too familiar 'mischievous grin and twinkle' combo. Minerva knew trouble when she saw it, and silently cursed all the laws of logic for not allowing her to assign the headmaster detention.

"For what, dare I ask?"

"For this," he grinned wider, touching her shoulder lightly, "tag." Taking advantage of her momentary shock he turned on his heel and ran, just slow enough to be sure she'd be able to catch up.

Minerva stared in shock at the empty space where her headmaster once stood. _'He's insane. Brilliant, but insane.'_ "I'm not going to chase you." She shouted down the hall from her doorway, watching him disappear around the corner.

"Then don't, and I'll win. The staff table in the dining hall is base, by the way!" He laughed happily, walking quickly down the tricky stairs.

"I'm not chasing him." She said to herself, though she knew it was a lie the moment she said it. She huffed out a sigh and closed the door, locking it on her way out. "Really, this is completely unreasonable." She argued to no one in particular, marching after him at her usual brisk pace.

"You're falling behind, Professor!" She heard him call out.

'_That sounded far…'_ she thought, quickening her pace slightly. "He can't make me do it." She said resolutely, speeding up to a less than leisurely trot. She heard his voice calling to her again, but couldn't make out what he said. She huffed once more and ran after him. _'I can't believe he's got me playing a child's game on school grounds. Wait, what does it matter if it's on school grounds or not? He's got me playing a child's game!'_

-END-

A/N: this writer is one of those superstitious people whose logical mind tells them 'you're being silly' but feels the urgency of such actions as knocking on wood all the same. That being said, when I loaded this document, told me there were 666 words, so I added this author's note to change the fact. How strange, I normally get a kick out of this sort of thing, one of my favorite things to suddenly realize is "Oh! It's friday the 13th! Yay!" (shrugs) chalk it up to having recently watched "The Omen" I guess.

...this fangirl should NOT watch even mildly frightning movies...


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